The American Life

Back home. It's been a week. What have I managed to do? Eat loads of processed food, go out with friends, relax on the beach, upgrade my computer, go to class, and study. And read Al-Jazeera to catch up on Israeli/Palestinian news.

I really miss being there. I miss the people, the food, the tension, the frustration. Sounds a little strange, like I prefer being in a conflict zone because it's somewhat glamorous - at least more so than my life in Chapel Hill. Maybe part of that is true. At times in the West Bank we were a little unnerved, walking around Hebron with snipers peering at us from rooftops, or walking through Shu'fat Refugee Camp with boys throwing firecrackers at our feet. In Chapel Hill, I'm just scared a cop will bust me for jay-walking. To travel 10km in Palestine, we crossed through checkpoints that took hours, where people screamed and pushed and shoved their way to the front while more soldiers perched above us watched carefully, their machine guns slinging at their sides. In Chapel Hill, I just drive. My biggest annoyance here is a red traffic light.

All the "glamor" aside, I just miss being there. I miss walking through Azza Camp on my way to the UNRWA clinic and seeing all the political graffiti on the walls. I wish I could still walk through the cobblestone markets in Bethlehem, or sit on the roof of Mary's house and eat with the lifelong friends I made while I was there. I miss the long, heated walks up hill after hill. I miss the knafeh, the falafel, and the bread.

I don't miss the sadness I felt while I was there, though. Perhaps I haven't had a chance to miss it because on some level, I still feel it. It is hard not to feel hopeless, but optimism is the only choice. Hell, the people who have been living through it for generations at times seem more optimistic than I would think possible given what they have gone through. There are definitely ones who are not, however. There are people who think all the Israelis should up and leave; some think violence will work; others cheer on those who throw stones at soldiers because even though it gets them in prison or even killed, it is supposedly their only way of letting out their frustration.

It's such a multi-faceted issue. What's that analogy? An onion? You peel back one layer and there's just a dozen more to peel through. The more you peel, the more you cry.